


Stakeout

by Captain_Forehead



Series: Tara and Spike (Attempt to) Save the Day [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen, I like writing in this POV if you got a beef with it then suck it, Mild Kennedy Bashing, POV Second Person, Sorry Not Sorry, Waiting For Godot-esque, mild swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 11:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13247292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Forehead/pseuds/Captain_Forehead
Summary: Tara and Spike go on a stakeout and talk about things.





	Stakeout

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is actually several months old and I was waiting to update the main fic of this series to post it, but then I decided that I don't care anymore

_ “♪ ...And she's lovin' him with that body, I just know it. Yeah 'n' he's holding her in his arms _ _ — _ _ ♪” _

_ “If someone you know is suffering from depression or anxiety, do not hesitate to rea _ _ — _ _ ” _

_ “This is a brand-new opportunity to listen to the word of the Lord in the voice of famous ac _ _ — _ _ ” _

You grabbed Spike’s wrist before he could change the station again.

“Please, stop,” you begged.

“There’s not a single good station!” he complained, pointing at the radio in an accusatory manner, as if blaming the object for not catering to his taste. “How is that even possible?”

“If you don’t like anything on the radio, you could just turn it off,” you suggested.

He grunted, proceeding to keep changing the station for a while before giving up and turning off the radio.

_ Thank the Goddess _ , you thought for a moment, before he replaced that with rapping his fingers on the headboard. You sighed internally.

“This is stupid.” Spike said, after some time. “Why the hell are we even here?”

You stared at him.

“You mean you really weren’t informed on what we’re doing here.”

“To be fair, I didn’t ask.” He reclined on his seat. “You said you were going out and needed a ride, I jumped in.”

You smiled.

“So all you knew was that you’d be going out with me and that was enough to convince you?”

“Hey, don’t get all sappy on me, alright. I just came ‘cause I thought you’d be hitting the club or something. Need some muscle, maybe a drinking buddy. Didn’t think we’d be sitting on our asses waiting for… what, again?”

“We’re on a recon mission,” you explained. “One of our Slayers brought this kid to my attention. Some boy in her school that’s been taking some interest in magic. She thinks he’s up to something shady.”

“And you?”

“I know better than to doubt on a Slayer’s instinct.”

“So how come we’re just waiting? Let’s bust in and catch him already, so we can go do something actually fun.”

You frowned.

“Spike, that’s a kid we’re talking about here. We don’t even know what he’s trying to do, or why.”

“Does it matter?”

“As a matter of fact it does, yeah,” you said, exasperated. “It’s not a century-old, undeniably evil demon. It’s a human being.”

“Could still be evil.” Spike interrupted.

_ “Could _ being keyword here,” you debated. “Besides, from my experience, and as much as I hate to admit, people’s motives to turn to magic are usually not the cheeriest ones. You’d be impressed by how many cases I’ve heard of someone seriously messing up because they heard magic could bring their loved ones back.”

“Tell me about it,” he agreed, obviously referring to the incident years ago, when Dawn tried to bring Joyce back. Though you also could recall yourself helping resurrect Buffy, months later, the difference being that it wasn’t any close to being your first spell.

 

“I just want to make sure we’re actually facing trouble here, and not just a teenager in pain. Which, in case you’re wondering, is why I’m here instead of sending a Slayer. I’m not so sure they’d have the tact for it.”

Spike grinned. “I don’t know, Glinda, I think Kennedy would be just the right woman for the job.”

You winced at the sound of the name. “Right. Kennedy. That girl has about as much tact as my left arm.”

Spike let out a full-belly laugh. “Alright witch, you got me convinced. This guy we’re talking about, which of these is he in?”

You pointed at an abandoned building, not too far away from Spike’s van. “The girl who came to me said he’d be meeting with his friends here. I wanna know who the other kids are before we take action.”

“You know, maybe they’re just gathered together for a book club,” Spike joked.

“Goddess, I hope you’re right,” you said, mostly sincere.

The two of you fell in a comfortable silence for the next few minutes, waiting for the teens to show up. You were too focused to notice Spike’s rummaging on your purse and only averted your eyes from the building when you heard the sound of someone drinking with a straw from an almost-empty recipient. You looked at Spike.

“Is that a juice box?”

“Found it in your purse. You got more of these?”

You stared at him, pouting, and his expression shifted to confusion as he tried to figure out why you seemed legitimately sad over a juice box.

“Spike, that. That was mine.” You reached into your purse and pulled out a blood bag. “I had brought blood for you.”

His face fell. “Oh.” He seemed unsure of how to react for a moment. Then he grinned and said: “You know what, you can have it. It’s good for you, it’s got vitamin D, which you’re clearly lacking.”

An invisible force pulled his face into the steering wheel. Hard.

“Bloody hell!” He cursed, hands over his severed nose.

“Another one of these, I throw you out of this car,” you threatened, not amused to slightest.

“Noted,” he grumbled.

You both fell into silence again, this time a slightly more uncomfortable version.

“So how’s Willow?” Spike asked out of the blue, after several minutes passed.

You glanced at him.  “Why do you ask?” you said, way more visibly defensive than you’d like.

He shrugged.  “Just wonderin’.”

“I’ve got more to life than just my marriage, you know.”

“Yeah but...” He shifted to face you. “Pretty sure it’s still a relevant thing in your life.”

You averted his gaze.

“Or you think I wouldn’t notice it’s been several days since you last mentioned her name?”

“It’s just...” You sighed. “Do you ever get tired of missing someone?”

“Darling, I’m a hundred years older than you,” Spike said. “Pretty sure anything you go through, I’ve been through before.”

You raised one eyebrow. “You still have both of your arms.”

“Alright, almost anything,” he corrected. “But seriously now. I get what you’re saying.”

“I just can’t help feeling like she doesn’t care anymore. I know it’s not true but — ” Damn it, you were getting emotional. You could already feel you eyes filling with tears. “See, this is why I didn’t want to talk about that.” You calmed yourself down before talking again. “What if she’s trying to get away from me on purpose?”

Spike snorted. “Are you kidding? That girl’s crazy for you.”

“It’s kinda hard to believe that when she’s not here and put Kennedy in her place, on top of it all. I mean, really? She could have chosen amongst dozens of Slayers, and she chooses the one girl who hates me and wants to bone her.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Oh, please. Why else would she hate me?”

You two were silent again for a few seconds.

“Alright. Sorry if I poked an open wound.”

You didn’t say anything. Truth is, the current state of your marriage wasn’t really the issue here. You had learned a long time ago — probably around the time you had to talk your wife (then girlfriend) out of destroying the whole world — that things between you and Willow would never be quite how you’d want them to be, and you accepted that. You knew it wouldn’t ever be possible for you and her to just drop the evil fighters’ life and move to a small town where you’d adopt two children (a boy and a girl) and get both a cat and a dog (the latter just for Willow’s sake, and a small breed. Big dogs frightened you), and where you’d be an elementary school teacher and Willow, being the genius she is, would make lots of money selling her innovative software projects to big companies, and you two would teach magic to your kids, but in a strategic way so that it wouldn’t affect the development of their world perception...

Okay, maybe “accepted” wasn’t the right word for it. You’d learn how to live with that eventually.

Point being that, while you were telling Spike all about your issues and sob stories, he would tell you nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“What about you?” you asked. “Any exciting news on Spike’s journey through the fields of love?”

Spike scrunched his nose. “You just can’t get rid of the sappy can ya?”

You shrugged.

“Welp.” He shifted in his seat. “Nothing great. You know that new girl, Matilda something?”

“Matilda Parkins? Our new witch?”

“Yeah, that one. I got lucky with her the other night. That’s pretty much about it.”

“You what?!” you shouted, in complete disbelief. “Spike, that girl was  _ sixteen _ !”

“What?! How the Hell was I supposed to know?!” he shouted back, defensively.

“You could start  _ asking _ , for instance.”

“Hey, miss me with that, alright? Girl said she was nineteen. And she damn well looked like it!”

You scoffed. “You’re disgusting, Spike.”

“Why is it all my fault? Next time, tell your girls to not go around lying about their ages.”

“And would you have backed down if you’d known that?”

“Tara, please. I’m not the vampire I used to be alright? I don’t take advantage of teenage girls.”   
“You just did.”

“Alright, I don’t do that  _ anymore _ , okay? At least not if I’m aware.”

You shook your hand, dismissing his excuse. It would be better if you just dropped the subject rather than stressing yourself. You loved Spike, but he really managed to get under your skin sometimes.

A few minutes passed.

“I wasn’t talking about that, you know,” you said.

He looked at you in confusion.

“When I asked about your love life,” you explained. “I was kinda expecting… Something else. Someone else.”

He turned to look outside his window, visibly uncomfortable.

“When was the last time you talked to Buffy?” you insisted.

He shrugged, trying to look casual. “Couple months. Weeks. Who’s counting?”

“Spike...”

“Fifty-three days and seventeen hours. Maybe. I dunno.”

You smiled sympathetically. “Well, why don’t you?”

“It’s pointless,” he said. “Buffy doesn’t wanna talk to me. She’s done pretending she likes me.”

You shook your head. “Spike, Buffy never pretended to like you. She really cares about you, I know that.”

Spike chuckled. “Thanks for saying it, witch, but I know better. And it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m over her.”

“Maybe you’re just stuck in the past. It’s true, Buffy didn’t always love you back, but that was then. You’re different now. You have a soul.”

He shook his head. “No, Tara, last time she saw me, I already had a soul. That’s not it. She just thinks I’m disgusting or something.”

“Spike, that’s not true...”

“‘Sides,” He continued. “Even if she loves me, it’s never gonna be nearly as much as forehead guy.”

“You mean Angel.”

“Yeah.” He snorted. “Sorry love, but I think I deserve better than second best.”

You shrugged. “Been there, done that.”

“Yeah, but you see, the guy you were second best to was shorter than you and switched hair colors more often than his mood. Mine was a champion for The Powers That Be who managed to knock up a sodding vampire. I ain’t no match for that fella.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t say anything. Because truth be told, you couldn’t completely disagree with Spike. You had met Angel only once, not many days before your wedding, but that was enough to convince you of what a wonderful man the older vampire was. He was charming, funny - though in a very particular fashion - and surprisingly nice for a man who had spent one and a half century spreading death and chaos all over Europe. He was also, indeed, quite handsome - or at least so you assumed. If you were being honest, Angel looked cute to you the same way a puppy did, but you were fairly sure he had the features of a handsome man if you were into that kind of stuff.

“Fine, if you say so,” you said at last. You remained quiet for a while. “You know what, you’re right, Spike. You deserve better.”

He looked at you.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. That’s not to say Buffy’s beneath you. I love both of you. I just think — I think you deserve someone who loves you openly. Who’s not ashamed of it.”

He smiled. “Like you.”

You felt a sudden rush of heat rising to your face. “Spike, t-that’s not what I — ”

“I mean like what you have,” he clarified. “You know, with Red.”

“Oh.” You smiled, relieved. “Yes, like that.”

He smiled again, settling his head on the headrest, relaxed. You placed your elbow over the car console, resting your chin in your hand, still a little antsy.

“Still, it’s not like I don’t love you, it’s just not — ”

“Aren’t those the kids we’re waiting for?”

You looked in the direction Spike was looking. You saw three figures sneakily entering the building the two of you had been watching over for the past several hours.

“Finally.” You breathed out. “I don’t know if I should be happy to know it wasn’t a waste of time or sad that we’re gonna have to deal with these kids.”

Spike shrugged in a “what can you do” way. “Such a shame. Wanna go and stop them or wait and catch them red-handed?”

“Let’s go before they can sacrifice something. Or someone,” you decided.

“Good call.”

The two of you opened the car doors at the same time, getting up and walking towards the building.

“Wait.”

“What?” Spike stopped to look at you, visibly annoyed. You could tell he was looking forward to kick the ass of anyone who offered resistance, and certainly hoping it would happen.

You frowned at the memory of something Spike said earlier in the evening. “You said Jessie’s Girl is bad? Spike, no song from the 80’s ever is bad. What is wrong with you?”

Spike groaned in annoyance, turning his back to you and running towards the teens. You followed him.

**Author's Note:**

> This entire work was an excuse to write the juice exchange. Sue me.


End file.
